days
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until
Ockham NZ Book Awards
Just under two weeks to go, and I just discovered that the three posts I had set to publish since the shortlisting have not published themselves … because I somehow managed to set them for 2023. Sigh! Oh well, this one will be a bit of a grab-bag.
When the shortlist was announced, we finalists were sent some questions to answer for the Ockhams twitter account to post in the lead up. We had to take a photo of our writing space, (this is mine) say why we wrote our books, and a couple of other things that don’t seem to have been released yet so I won’t steal their thunder. It’s always interesting to hear how other writers do what they do, and fascinating to see where they do it. (I think I may have slightly fallen in love with Whiti Hereaka – her tweets almost make me want to join Twitter.) My own answer comes across as altogether too serious, but there you go. (And if you’d like to go to twitter, feel free to heart it … pretty please? ) Incidentally, if you‘d like to read a sampler of work from the four of us poetry finalists, the link is here: https://issuu.com/nzbookawards/docs/the_2022_ockhams_poetry_sampler (yep, that was another of the things I thought I had posted about … argh.)
I’m in the process of making myself a dress for the event. I do have a couple of red dresses that I have worn for tumble‘s debut and follow-up at the CPC last year, but … sewing is my other therapy, and this is a pattern I really want to try. I’ll take my other red dress with me (the one that prompted John Alison to refer to me as our magnificent harlot) (it genuinely was a Harlow, but never mind if you don’t know the reference), just in case the new one feels wrong on the night. But I’m going to be super nervous anyway, so wearing something that has plenty of coverage (this one is neck to ankle, long sleeves and very swish ) is probably a good idea. I refer to the other dress as my vavavoom dress … not good to be worrying that my vavas may voom of their own volition. (On the other hand … safety pins?)
The ceremony has been changed and changed again so many times, thanks to Covid. But now is back to being a full-on affair, complete with food and an after party. I’ve started having weird dreams about it – last night it was about being run over by one of the other finalists (not a poet, and way too weird for me to name names). I’ve also had one about rocking up with an entourage of glamorous fellow poets, all also in red dresses, and having the emcee repeatedly address each of the other people as me. Sigh!
Everything will be live-streamed (will post the link when it is made public), and I know a couple of my lovely Lincoln peeps will be getting together to have a watch party. Anyone else planning to tune in, and watch me smile and nod like a madwoman? (And yes, I worship Kate Bush …)
A Dark Feathered Art 